Permanent
by Jeannie-Mckay
Summary: A tag for 'A Scandal in Belgravia'; what was going through Mycroft's mind when he took Sherlock to the morgue. SPOILERS. ONE-SHOT


Title: Permanent

Autor: JeannieMcKay

Rating: T for mention of drug use and John's occasional swearing

Summary: A tag for 'A Scandal in Belgravia'; what was going through Mycroft's mind when he took Sherlock to the morgue.

Disclaimer: I, sadly, do not own anything to do with 'Sherlock' if I did then there would be plenty more incidents of Ben with little to no clothes on ;] All these things belong to The Moff, Godtiss and the good, old BBC.

Author's Note: I know I've been terrible at neglecting my other stories which desperately need updating but every time I watch the new episodes of 'Sherlock' I suddenly get such Mycroft muse. It's awful, but seeing as he's my favourite character I suppose I can be forgiven...maybe? What do you think? I think Mycroft was so protective in 'SiB', it just made me so happy to know that he does care about Sherlock even if he doesn't quite know how to show it or process it. He is a big brother in the end and he wants his little brother to be happy and healthy. So yes, I suppose this is a vague exploration of that idea. Please do let me know what you think; oh and the title comes from the beautiful song 'Permanent' by David Cook. There is an adorable Mycroft/Sherlock sibling video on youtube to this song and it gave me such muse for both this and the next thing I'm posting. So definitely try and find that or else listen to the song.

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><p>Mycroft watched as his brother walked out towards the doors that led out of the morgue; towards the small gaggle of mourners, cigarette smoke curling in the cool air and ash floating to the floor. His dark coat swirled behind him and if one were to see him now then it would be difficult to tell that he was hurting. Indeed if Mycroft had not been his brother; had not known him better than perhaps any other human being in this world with the exception of the good doctor, then he would have never known that there was anything wrong.<p>

He waited a moment, watching the retreating form of his brother before he pulled his mobile out of his pocket. Arrangements had already been made the moment he'd heard of Miss Adler's fate, he was well aware of Sherlock's 'attachment' to this woman and was already regretting involving him in this whole affair. He had heard of her feminine whiles but had never believed that Sherlock would be in any way influenced by her.

If John had not informed him about his brother's odd behaviour then he would have been none the wiser; it was extraordinary that after all this time his brother should be so affected by _this_ person in particular. He had never dwelt on Sherlock's preferences, it had never interested him and he saw no reason why it should have concerned him until now. It was now a matter of state and therefore of the utmost importance that any dalliance between the two was stopped as quickly as possible.

Mycroft pressed the speed dial and held the phone to his ear, within seconds John Watson had picked up the call. He could not deny that he was constantly impressed by this man's willingness to help and also his ability to remain in Sherlock's company for more than five minutes at a time without succumbing to the temptation to throttle him.

"He's on his way, have you found anything?" He asked, his voice as calm and level as it ever was but inside his mind was racing. He had tried to make a joke, had said such things that would normally have elicited a smile, a chuckle or even a condescending remark from Sherlock and yet what he had received had not been in the least bit encouraging. Of all the women his brother could become so intrigued by it had to be the one who would cause him the most trouble, who was likely to cause trouble for all of them even now she was dead.

"_No. Did he take the cigarette?"_ Mycroft tried not to sigh, fighting the urge to scrub his face with his free hand. He could vaguely hear the sounds of the mourners crying in the distance and it made it all the more frustrating. He had wanted Sherlock to refuse the offer, to tell him that he was doing perfectly well on his patches and that he wasn't about to let Mycroft have one over on him. He had been surprised and deeply worried when no complaint was offered at all, only a question as to why it was being offered.

"Yes."

"_Shit…"_ There was a pause and the vague sounds of John speaking to someone else, no doubt their landlady. Mycroft made a mental note to apologise to her again for his outburst. _"No, it looks like he's clean. We've tried all the usual places," _He should be relieved by that news; he should be able to breathe a sigh of relief at John's words and relax but he knew that this was only the beginning of the problem. They could search Baker Street all day and they would probably never find half of Sherlock's hiding places. _"Are you sure tonight's a danger night?"_

Mycroft had already turned and was beginning to head towards the exit, knowing that staying here any longer would do no good to anyone. He was unsure of how to answer that question; he had never been sure of when his brother would indulge in his particular habits, it was never a surprise when such a thing happened because he was always prepared for the worst where Sherlock was concerned but he could rarely know exactly when they would occur. The best he could do was make an educated guess based on information gathered, and all the data he'd received led him to believe that these next few days would be most difficult for all concerned. Poor Doctor Watson would have to watch him closely.

"No, but then I never am. You have to stay with him, John." It was worrying just how reliant they all were becoming on this particular army doctor, the poor fellow was completely indispensable for Sherlock and Mycroft was finding himself contacting the man more often so that he had an inside account of the goings on within 221b. He had not trusted John at first; he had been unsure what his effect on Sherlock would be but as time wore on he had found it to be most satisfactory. He had been a calming influence and had, unwittingly he was sure, kept Sherlock clean.

"_Uhr – Um – I've got plans!"_

"No." He stopped briefly, glaring at the wall before him as though it were the doctor stood there. Perhaps he had been right in his first appraisal of John Watson; perhaps he did not care for his brother as much as he had thought. How dare he think that he could go out when Sherlock could return at any minute and end up in the most dramatic and unseemly of situations.

He did not give the other man a chance to respond, simply ending the call and replacing the phone back into the pocket of his coat. A part of him wished that he could watch over his brother in person but their relationship had never and would never reach that level. They were brothers only through blood not by bond; he cared for the younger man a great deal, despite whatever he may have said earlier about caring being a weakness. His brother's safety was of the utmost importance to him and he would ensure that Sherlock remained alive and healthy for as long as he lived upon this earth.

Mycroft continued out of the mortuary, not glancing back once as he slipped into the black car that was pulled up just outside. The door was closed for him and he rearranged his coat and umbrella before settling back into the leather and trying to organise his thoughts. Next to him Anthea was tapping away at her Blackberry, barely even looking up at him and for that he was grateful. He needed silence to process his next course of action rather than inane chatter that would simply irk him. He had enough of that when dealing with Ministers; he did not expect it from his secretary.

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><p>His house was quiet, far too quiet for his liking. Earlier he had wanted nothing more than silence so as to think things through but now that he was here and alone he wanted the hustle and bustle of the office.<p>

He sat at the large wooden dining table, glass of scotch poured but untouched as he stared unseeing at the room. This whole scenario should not have been as difficult or as draining as it was proving to be. He'd placed a great deal of stock in Sherlock's abilities, had expected him to get hold of the photographs quickly and then the matter would be at an end. He had not banked on attraction getting in the way. If he'd have known Sherlock would get hurt in this way then he never would have suggested him.

It was entirely his fault. If anything happened now it was down to him and him alone. John would blame himself for not checking thoroughly enough, Mrs Hudson would fret that there was more she could have done but Mycroft would know that it was solely his responsibility for if he had simply left it to other agents then Sherlock would be safe. Unknown to Miss Adler and her associates and still alien to all matters of the heart.

His hands reached up to massage his temples, vaguely wondering what their parents would have done had they been privy to this information. They were both on holiday and he was most definitely not going to interrupt their time away with a phone call asking their advice. He was an adult and whilst he may spend a great deal of his life trying to convince his brother that he too was a grown man he couldn't help but continually see him as a child. Whenever he looked at that mess of dark curls he saw the little boy who'd crawled into his bed at age four and asked for him to read a bedtime story because father had refused.

Mycroft had had so much more patience for Sherlock back then; perhaps there was a correlation between this and their relationship now. They had been on friendly terms as children and as Mycroft's tolerance for his brother grew thinner so did their bond. Neither of them had clung to the remnants of those days, neither of them had really cared that they were no longer close. Attachment only made things more difficult and yet as Mycroft watched his brother grow and saw all the troubles he had gotten himself in to, he had found that he still held affection for his younger sibling. It was irritating but nothing could be done.

Suddenly his phone chirped on the table next to him, alerting him to a text message and he was certain as to the identity of the sender. John would waste no time in letting him know that Sherlock had returned and he only hoped that the doctor was able to deal with the petulant, six-foot child that Sherlock Holmes was. He must be used to it by now but he doubted John had ever had to face the threat of Sherlock relapsing. He was quite sure that John had never seen his brother in the grips of that infernal drug and he hoped it would remain so, it was not a sight that he wished upon another human being.

_He's back. Very quiet. Anything I should do? J_

_No. Watch, observe. Keep me updated. MH_

There was nothing that could be done for his brother, it was simply up to Sherlock to work through this. He was no longer needed to watch over his sibling twenty-four-seven as he had once. He studiously ignored the small voice that informed him that he would much prefer to be the one with Sherlock at this moment than leaving it to some doctor his brother had only known for five minutes. His appearance at the flat would only cause tension and that would not be conducive to a recovery. He would only add to the problem rather than fix it, whilst John seemed to have a calming influence on Sherlock, something that was needed especially at times like these.

Finally he reached out his hand and picked up the glass of scotch, lifting it to his lips and taking a small sip. The liquid burning the back of his throat as he swallowed; it was a welcome relief to the worry that had been gnawing at his stomach. His phone chirped once again:

_He's locked himself in his room. J_

Mycroft smiled at the message, John would be fine and if Sherlock was locking himself away from society then that was at least a start to the process. If he had left the flat again then he would have been worried; or more accurately, he would have placed a tail on him and gone out himself to ensure that no drug dealers in all of London would do business with his brother.

It was not fair that such a brilliant mind like Sherlock's should be plagued by all these problems. He was too young to have dealt with so much. If he could have taken the burdens from his brother then he would have done, gladly. It was odd to feel so much a part of Sherlock's life again and to have this need to protect him once again back in the forefront of his mind. Was this how siblings felt normally? Perhaps this was one normal aspect of their personalities and relationship. Maybe they were normal after all.


End file.
